


We've Got All the Stuff (To Mess All of You Up)

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Fluff, M/M, Meddling, mate stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-30
Updated: 2012-07-30
Packaged: 2017-11-11 02:15:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/473337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because of Peter, Stiles and Derek keep ending up alone. (Or the one where Peter takes matters into his own hands.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	We've Got All the Stuff (To Mess All of You Up)

**Author's Note:**

> Done at an Anonymous request; also, AU warning because it's some weird mash up of season 1 and 2. Enjoy!

Stiles sits on the porch, hands wrapped around his ankles to pull his legs closer to him; beside him Lydia sits, cleaning and buffing her nails, and managing to look dainty on a burnt out porch. To his other side, Alison watches with rapture as Scott, Derek, Peter, and the others roll around, clawing and snarling at each other. Stiles is learning fast that being a human in a pack was a boring existence, even if his pack is an unusual bunch. Now that things had cooled down—a treaty was drawn up with the Argents, and Peter was happily residing as alpha over the pack—Stiles felt that he could probably seamlessly slide out of the pack’s radar, and slip back into his normal life.

Derek stops, and looks over to Stiles with an expression on his face that Stiles interprets as “gassy baby.” But then Peter stops as well, and looks at Derek curiously before following his gaze to Stiles. Then Peter breaks into a smirk, and barks something at Scott and Jackson about sparring and whoever loses gets to be the prey in their twisted version of Hide an Seek. Boyd and Isaac and Erica take it upon themselves to start a threeway brawl.

Derek takes it as a queue that his training is over for the time being, and stands awkwardly in front of Stiles. Alison peers around him, and Stiles can’t help but think how cool it is that she watches and cheers, rather than watching with worry or fear. She’s into the fighting, she cheers Scott on and makes fun of him when he fails. Lydia is coolly disinterested in a way that Stiles could only dream to be. So instead, he focuses on Derek.

“Hi.” He says, confused.

Derek nods, swallowing.

Peter is suddenly beside him, and chuckles softly at Stiles short-lived freak out because  _fucking werewolves_  and their  _fucking sneaky powers_. “How are you today Stiles?”

“Uh, good.” He blinks. “Bored, I guess? It’s great watched Jackson get his ass kicked. But, y’know, after a few weeks of it, it gets boring.”

Peter looks upset, and Stiles thinks Derek shifts in a similar way, but his face is as not-revealing as ever. “Well that won’t do, now will it?” He hums to himself. “You and the ladies are welcome to skip these meetings, since they don’t directly concern you.”

Stiles looks at Alison, but she’s deeply entrenched in shouting at the brawling behind them. Stiles knows Lydia is already walking to her car, with a almost nonexistent wave thrown over her shoulder.

“Nah, I’ve got nowhere else to be.”

Peter nods, and scratches his chin. Stiles stares at him, thinking how he’s more like a grandpa than an uncle; he’s like the guy in your family who dresses up like Santa every Christmas to make all the little kids happy. He’s the guy in the family who all the kids love, clamor over, crawl on and climb like he’s a tree or something. “Well, Derek could always teach you.”

Stiles looks between the two, mulling over in his head of how immense of a bad idea that is. “Uh, teach me what?” He asks anyways.

Peter grins at Derek, and Derek glares back but it seems weak. Stiles feels like he missed a whole conversation. “Oh, with self-defense, holding your own, take downs.” Peter looks Stiles up and down appraisingly. “Alison is a hunter already,”

She pops back over into the conversation for a minute to affirm this.

“And Lydia…” Peter trails off with a smirk. “She’s something special. As are you,” he counters the words that haven’t had a chance to leave Stiles’ mouth. “But I also think it would be good bonding.” Peter claps his hands together, then hauls Stiles up by his shoulder. “So, get to it, teach him whatever you see fit, Derek.”

And with that, Peter turns around and watches his pups tear each other to shreds.

Derek looks at Stiles, stiff and uncomfortable and Stiles feels like this is somehow his fault. But, Derek doesn’t leave him alone, which Stiles thinks is only because it was an alpha’s suggestion. Instead he grips Stiles’ by the bicep, oddly gentle, and drags him to the other side of the house to start their sparring sessions.

)

Stiles is  _trying_  to make dinner for his dad—who should be home any minute—when a hand locks tight on his shoulder and scares the ever living shit out of him, so that he drops the spoon on the counter, and grabs the wrist just like Derek taught him, and twists his body to use the attacker’s weight against him, holding his arm taught and tight that if the attacker tried to get free, he’d only end up breaking his arm and probably dislocating his shoulder.

“Very good, Stiles.”

He gasps, and okay maybe it’s closer to a squeak, and lets go. “Peter! Shit! Sorry, oh my god—!?”

Peter holds up a hand, “it isn’t a problem. I was hoping you’d react that way.”

“You were hoping I’d try and break your arm?”

Peter grins in that way that reminds Stiles what his life has become lately. (Read: werewolf infested.)

“So, uh, how can I help you?”

“I’m actually here to speak with your father. I think it’s time he knew everything.”

Stiles gapes at him, then hears a distinct sizzling and realizes that his orzo is probably about to burn. He whips back around to the stove and stirs it hurriedly, reaching for the water and the seasoning. “So, uh, staying for dinner?”

“I’d hate to impose.”

Stiles shakes his head, “totally not, dude.” And winces, because there’s probably some rule against calling your pack leader  _dude_. “I made extra.” And he did, so it’s actually really fine.

Peter takes a seat at the dining room table. “Wonderful.”

True to his word from earlier that morning, John Stilinski walks in the door right on time, and sighs happily. “Love it when you cook, kid.” He stops short when he notices Peter, though. “Mr. Hale. What a pleasant surprise?”

“Please, call me Peter.” He walks up to John and extends his hand, which the sheriff returns easily. “I’ve come to talk to you about certain things your son has been involved in, through no fault of his own.”

John’s eyes narrow. “He isn’t in trouble, is he?”

“Far from it, but all the same, you deserve to know.”

John looks between Stiles, who is biting his tongue and trying to set the table as fast as possible, and Peter, then nods. “Alright. Let’s eat.”

Stiles actually relaxes once Peter starts telling his dad because A) It’s nice not having to hide things from the only person you have left, and B) Peter has amazing skills in the way of speech, and Stiles envies him a bit for the smooth deliverance of his tale, and C) His dad takes it remarkably well.

“So, those mountain lions…”

“Each of those things were entirely my own fault, and I take responsibility, but seeing as the quote-un-quote authority over werewolves has seen fit not to kill me, I imagine you’ll take the same measures.”

John nods. “It’s just nice to know.” He says, though he looks more tired than before he also looks happier.

“There is one more thing, John, that I wish to discuss in private.” Peter’s eyes flicker to Stiles. “And I know dear Stiles here is a bit nosy, so perhaps you should go train with Derek some more?”

“It’s almost eight o’clock at night!”

John glares at Stiles. “Yeah go—what was that?  _Train_?”

“Oh yes,” and Stiles awkwardly stands as Peter starts, no joke,  _singing his praises_  to his own dad. “Stiles is quite adept at learning to fight. He almost took me down today when…” Stiles is out of the house and in his jeep as fast as possible.

Having nowhere else to go, he caves and  _does_  go to the slowly being rebuilt Hale house. Derek is sitting on the porch, looking handsome and stoic.

“Yo.” Stiles sits beside him and leans back.

“What are you doing here.”

Harsh, Stiles thinks. “Peter told me to scram  _in my own house_  might I add, so I came here.”

“He told you to come here?”

“Yeah but you know I probably would’ve anyways. Scott’s probably with Alison. Lydia’s off being gorgeous and out of my league, and Jackson is probably interrupting another one of Danny’s dates.” Stiles shrugs. “Besides, we’re kind of like friends, right?”

Derek almost smiles, and Stiles knows it because he catches the twitch in his cheeks. “Yeah, kind of.”

Stiles thumps him on the back with a cheer. “Alright then! What d’you wanna do?” Stiles has a sudden thinking thought that things are going to be a lot less interesting now that everyone is on the same side.

“If you wanted it to…” Derek struggles for the words, “to feel like old times, I could chase you around and try and capture you.”

Stiles stares back. “I think that’s the most you’ve ever said to me at once.”

Derek smirks and looks away. He looks back, though, when Stiles stands. “Hm?”

“Sure, why not. We’ll think of it as training.” Stiles grins and starts backing away before breaking into a full run. “And no using your super wolfy powers! That’s totally cheating!”

Derek grins and laughs, then takes off after Stiles, keeping his wolf in check, though he’s still infinitely faster than Stiles even without the supernatural help. He can hear Stiles laughing, and it echoes in the woods making it that much easier. The more he laughs the harder he breaths, and the slower he runs.

Derek can see him up ahead, a small speck of a figure who’s stopped to gasp for air. Derek skirts around trees as he comes up on him, and tackles the figure with a roar.

He’s bewildered when he realizes he’s laying on a tree—he just  _roared_  at a tree.

Then Stiles lets out a battle cry of his own and latches onto Derek’s back, rolling him over and settling on his chest with a triumphant grin. “Ha!”

Derek grins up at him, and relaxes into the soft ground of the forest. “You win.” He says.

“I know.” Stiles replies, and Derek can’t even be bothered by the fact that Stiles will undoubtedly gloat about this for weeks to come. Stiles open his mouth, then stops to simply stare down at Derek. There’s a spark in the air, and it travels through both of them. But then Stiles’ phone rings, and he scrambles to answer it. “Dad?”

“ _Okay kiddo, you can head back home.”_

Stiles looks at Derek, who sits up which knocks Stiles onto the ground; he hurriedly gets himself upright. “Do I have to?”

“I’d like it if you did, bud, we need to talk.”

Stiles sighs, and pouts though its manipulative powers have no affect over the phone. “Fine. I’ll be home in twenty.”

Derek helps him to stand after he’s hung up, and they brush the dirt off themselves. They walk leisurely back to the mansion, realizing they hadn’t gotten very far at all. Derek follows Stiles to his jeep, and they nod curtly and awkwardly at each other. Stiles grins and laughs and punches Derek in the arm lightly before clambering into his jeep and driving away.

)

Stiles has his knees pulled up to his chest, squished between the wall and the door of the broom closet. Normally, he’d fit just fine into something like this, but with Derek squished in alongside him, it’s a tight fit.

“So, come here often?”  _Derek_  asks, totally beating Stiles to the punch.

Stiles stares flabbergasted in the darkness of the closet. “Who are you and what have you done with Derek Hale?”

Derek smirks, and squirms a little closer to the wall on his left, trying to make room for Stiles. “One of us had to say it.”

Stiles can’t argue with that. Silence lapses. “You know this is entirely Peter’s fault.”

Derek looks over and Stiles reads it as  _duh_.

“Why did he think this was okay? Did he forget you were in here even though _he’s_  the one who asked you to grab the cleaner? Did he do this on purpose?” Stiles bangs his head lightly on the wall behind them. Of everything in the Hale house, it’s the  _closets_  that are small.

“Of course he did it on purpose.” Derek snarls, but it feels oddly goodnatured.

“Why?” Stiles asks, turning his head despite the uncomfortable angle.

“Because, you know why,” Derek snaps, and there goes the good mood.

“Uh, dude, no I seriously don’t.”

“Stop it.” Derek looks upset and when the fuck did  _that_  become a thing.

“No, no, come on, tell me what’s going on, this isn’t fair.”

Derek looks over slowly. “You really don’t know?”

“Know  _what_?” Stiles asks, exasperated and would be throwing his limbs around in frustration if he could—but he can’t because, you know,  _broom closet_.

Derek opens his mouth, closes it, and Stiles takes a moment to point out that he totally looks like a fish. “You.. and I…”

Stiles just stares back, waiting.

“Peter he was…” Derek makes an irritated noise in the back of his throat. “You’re my mate.” An judging by the look on Derek’s face, that wasn’t what was meant to come out of his mouth. Stiles chokes on air. “You’re—you and I.. yeah. Okay. And Peter knew that so he.. he tried. In his own way.” Derek looks pleased and a little fond.

“So. We’re like. Tied by the bonds of fate never to be broken, then, huh?”

Derek looks away again. “No. You’ll always have a choice.”

“But I—?”

“You’re human. There’s no way you could be expected to be tied down to a werewolf for forever.” But Stiles can hear the  _‘someone like me’_  instead of the word werewolf.

“Don’t tell me how to feel.” Stiles replies because he’s just that stubborn. He leans over when Derek looks back, and kisses him hard on the lips. The position is awkward, and their noses dig in against each other, but everything else aside, it’s nice.

Then the door opens an it’s kind of shitty again. Especially since it’s Peter and John staring down at the two of them.

“I told you so, John.” Peter says, calm though his grin is vibrant.

John just lifts an eyebrow, and all Stiles can say to that is “I told you I could be gay, Dad.”


End file.
